


Maybe it's worth it

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: Georgi and Victor both knew their soulmates were skaters. Mila didn’t have one, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I have more choice this way,” she explained. Yuri didn’t know about Yakov. He did, sometimes, hint that soulmates were more trouble than they were worth, but Yakov hinted that almost everything was more trouble than it was worth.An AU where you carry the pain of your soulmate's injuries.Written for theHero and His Soldierzine.





	Maybe it's worth it

 

Yuri had known for years his soulmate had to be a skater. The ghost bruises that appeared on his feet as puberty started were too familiar to be anything else. But there were plenty of skaters around, plenty of opportunities for those ghost bruises to appear. His soulmate could have been a hockey player.

Yuri  _ really _ didn’t want his soulmate to be a hockey player.

Georgi and Victor both knew their soulmates were skaters. Mila didn’t have one, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I have more choice this way,” she explained. Yuri didn’t know about Yakov. He did, sometimes, hint that soulmates were more trouble than they were worth, but Yakov hinted that almost everything was more trouble than it was worth.

Yuri poked at the shadowy bruises on his feet and wondered.

Otabek Altin didn’t have a soulmate, either, had never felt the soft echoes of someone else’s pain. “It’s easier, I guess,” he said. 

He let Yuri kiss him anyway, in PyeongChang, in the darkness of the stadium after the last fireworks had faded. Yuri felt Otabek’s hands fist in his hair and wondered if Yakov was right. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said, as they both gasped for breath, as the cold crept back into his body and a thousand little shivers ran through him. 

“I’m not,” Otabek said, and kissed him again. 

They found an open room and Otabek stripped his clothes off, kissed every inch of him, down to the ghost bruises on his feet he wanted to ignore. The cheap mattress was hard under Yuri’s back, and Otabek’s skin was warm, smooth, everything he’d thought about at three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. Yuri couldn’t stop touching him, running his fingers over Otabek’s jaw, teasing his stupid perfect hair.  _ It should be you,  _ Yuri thought, as they moved together, his hands guiding Otabek’s hips.

_ Why can’t it be you? _

  
  


Back in St. Petersburg, it was easy to fall back into his old routines, to pretend that Otabek was just his friend, to ignore the ghost pains on his hip and feet and knees. 

Maybe ignoring it all had distracted him. Maybe that’s why he went flying on his quad loop and smashed into the boards, but it was probably that rough spot on the ice, or maybe that Victor and Katsudon were being disgusting over in the corner or—

Yuri had been hurt before, of course. Bruises and scratches and strains. It was part of skating, part of life.

Yuri couldn’t remember anything hurting quite  _ this  _ much.

The good news was that it wasn’t a fracture. The bad news was that it was a goose-egg bruise on his elbow that was distractingly painful. The ice and the painkillers barely touched it, and it was already turning really weird colors as Yakov drove him back home. “You’ll probably have to take tomorrow off.”

“Yeah,” Yuri said. “Great.” He tried to adjust his weight so he could actually be comfortable. No luck.

Whoever the fuck was feeling it too—

He didn’t hate them, at least he didn’t think he did. He just wished they were someone else.

He was icing his elbow when Victor came by with a bag of take-out and his bag and phone, which he’d left at the rink in the chaos. 

He opened up the cartons and found a fork. There were three texts from Otabek.

_ Apparently I have a soulmate after all, they just have to get badly hurt for me to notice. The doctor says I have a very high pain tolerance, or maybe my soulmate does? _

_ I shouldn’t hope that your arm’s hurt. But I do. _

_ Are you okay? _

Yuri didn’t even know. His heart pounded in his chest.  _ Which arm hurts? _

The text came back immediately.  _ Right. _

He lifted up his own phone and took a photo. He thought of a dozen things to write but in the end he just sent the image to Otabek. No words, just his impossibly swollen, purple-brown right elbow.

_ I have a blister,  _ Otabek wrote back.  _ Left big toe. _

Yuri put his hand down. Yes, the traces were there. Not too painful, but—there.  _ Cut on your little toe, too? The left one? _

Otabek sent a picture.  _ My brother is calling me an idiot. I guess I just _ — _ you would’ve started skating after me. I don’t think I even noticed at the beginning, and I got used to it. My feet hurt every night no matter what, you know? I didn’t think about it. _

Yuri was still struggling to breathe. What the fuck. What the  _ fuck. _

_ I guess I am an idiot,  _ Otabek sent.

He thought of half a dozen answers before he sent back:  _ I don’t care. You’re my idiot.  _ Where was Otabek now? 4CC was in a week.  _ Can I see you at 4CC? _

_ Whenever you want to. Always. _

A few seconds later:  _ I hated him. I hated that he had your pain and I didn’t. _

Yuri swallowed.  _ Don’t start getting sentimental on me, Altin. _

_ I’ll try not to. _

Grandpa had always said that Yuri could have the ring Grandma gave him when they married. Shit, there was so much to do—

Getting the ring. Flights to Colorado Springs. Shit, he’d have to  _ tell  _ people. Maybe not yet, though. Maybe he could just show up in Colorado and make people wonder.

Potya nudged at his hand. "Guess what, girl?" He picked her up with his good arm; she protested, but only faintly. "He’s mine. Really mine. Do you think he’ll be more trouble than he’s worth?"

She mewed.

"Me neither," he said, and opened up his laptop. “Let’s tell Grandpa together.”


End file.
